


Stay Alive

by officialmaknae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, One Shot, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7333531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialmaknae/pseuds/officialmaknae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zitao doesn't know how he's supposed to feel when he's left alone after Yifan's suicide, but he doesn't think it's like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my AsianFanFics account, and can also be viewed here: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/944254/
> 
> I wrote this when I was really emotional about the rumors of Tao leaving - oops, guess they were true. Idk man this is a mess. Strongly influenced by Twenty One Pilots' "Truce." It fucked me up.
> 
> Strong trigger warning as it centers around suicide.

Zitao reached out over the sheets of his bed, his fingertips grazing over the place that once held a warm body. He fought back the urge to shake, but he could see his hand trembling. Tears were welling in his eyes; he pulled the limb back to his chest, cradling it with its counterpart. He pressed it firmly into his torso, but he knew he couldn't stop the feeling of an overwhelming black hole opening, blosoming and consuming everything that was in his body.

_It wasn't fair._

 

_Now the night is coming to an end._

 

"So, Tao, how are you feeling?" The man asked, looking over his notepad.

"Fine," he answered, his voice monotone. He had never been a man of much vocal flambuoyance, but it sounded even hollow to him. Everyting seemed hollow now.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"No," he said, still in his void tone.

What was there to talk about? Was the man supposed to understand how he felt? He probably had a wife, a few kids, maybe even grandkid. He wasn't going to be able to give Zitao what he wanted to hear. He wanted someone to tell him he was going to be okay, that everything was going to be okay, and even though he wasn't going to believe them, it would have been nice to hear. It would have shown that someone was at least trying to make him feel better. The way everyone treated him now only made him feel more alienated.

"Are you positively sure?" The man pushed.

Zitao flexed his neck, closing his eyes. Yifan's face spread into his mind, flashing a quick image of him smiling - too much gum showing, as always - and then he was gone.

Zitao swallowed.

"Yes."

 

_The sun will rise and we will try again._

 

"Hold out your hand," a low voice murmured. "And keep your eyes closed."

"Why?" Zitao whispered back, a laugh bubbling up into his mouth.

"Just do it," the voice said, sounding amused.

Zitao held out his hand. He felt long fingers skimming along his palm, something cool landing in the middle of the flat surface.

"Open."

Zitao's eyes fluttered open, landing on a pair of metal studs. His mouth stretched into a smile, immediately filled with pleasure.

"They're gorgeous," he commented, twirling them into the fading light of the sun. They glimmered in his hold. "Where did you get them?"

"Don't worry about it," the older boy said, watching Zitao's face become a mask of admiration for the gift.

Zitao started pulling out the earrings he was wearing, replacing the slots with the new show of affection he had recieved. They felt heavy in his ears, a nice weight that made him want to turn his head side-to-side repeatedly.

"How do they look?" He asked.

"Beautiful," came the reply. Zitao looked into the man's face in front of him, hearing the seriousness in his voice. "Just like you."

The man caught his chin his hand, cupping it and pulling it in to kiss his lush lips. Zitao relished in the way they fit together, like they were made for each other. He always kissed him like he was the only person in the universe that mattered, and Zitao loved him for it. He pulled away, resting his forehead on his. They gazed into each other's eyes, becoming lost in one another's presence. A thumb ran over Zitao's bottom lip.

"I love you," the man said. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Yifan."

 

_Stay alive, stay alive for me._

 

Zitao wasn't sure where it all went wrong. He was driving himself crazy. He never slept anymore, he never ate, he only showered enough to let himself slide by if he ever went out in public, which was a rarity in itself these days. He didn't want to stay in their apartment, but he couldn't bear to make himself leave. He was never one to believe in ghosts or spirits or the after life, but he found himself wishing he was. It wound bring some sort of solace to his restless head.

He wore Yifan's clothes to bed, like he did when Yifan was still there. But, unlike then, he no longer had Yifan there to wrap his arms around him and smooth his still-damp hair with kisses. He felt cold at night, but it was more than a physical thing. It was seeping into his bones and he wished humans hibernated. He couldn't bring himself to even look at the photos of them together anymore. The framed ones were face down on the shelves, the ones on his phone locked away in an album that he had to enter a specific passcode for so he wouldn't stumble across them accidentally.

He held Yifan's phone in his hands, still full of his own personal collection of contacts, photos, music, notes, everything still the way he had left it. The line was still active, and he read all the messages his friends sent him, knowing it was a bit invasive of privacy, but he couldn't help it. He wanted every bit of Yifan he could find to himself. He told himself that wasn't such a bad thing.

He reached for his own phone, knowing he was going to regret this, but dialing the number anyway. Yifan's phone came to life, playing his favorite song. Zitao already felt himself sobbing, wishing Yifan would answer, to please answer his Taozi. Then the VoiceMail played, and Zitao forgot what it felt like to breathe.

" _Hey, it's Kris! I'm busy at the moment - or I'm ignoring you - so please tell me what you have to at the tone! Bye!_ "

The beep played and Zitao took a shuddering breath.

"Please..." He struggled. "Please come back to me. I can try harder. I'll try so hard to make you h-happy. I swear to God if I had known what you were going through, I would have helped. Why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you j-just talk to me?" He wiped at his face, tears smearing all over his cheeks. He leaned his head back on the wall he was seated against. "I am so lonely without you. I was going to spend forever with you. _You said you would be here! You promised!_  You...You said you would never lie to me. I trusted you. We were going to be together forever and - "

" _We're sorry, but the VoiceMail for this number is full. Please disconnect your call and try agian once the recipient has cleared away some messages. Thank you._ "

Zitao swallowed, the phone falling from his hands. He pulled his knees up to his chest, his body shaking from the soul-wracking force of his sobs.

 

_You will die, but now your life is free._

 

The funeral was far from the worst part. Zitao thought that would be the hardest thing to get through, but in comparison, it was starting to look like something he would willingly sit through over and over if he didn't have to feel like this anymore. Sitting on the front pew and knowing everyone was looking directly at him to see if it was going to be too much didn't seem all that bad now. He wondered if he should have started asking more questions about Yifan's day. If he had taken more interest in his days at work, would he still be here? If he had made him dinner more often, would he had still put a gun in his mouth?

What would they be doing if he  _was_ still here? Would they be out with their friends? Would they be asleep in bed? Would they be laying on the couch together watching their favorite movie? Zitao shuddered with the realization that the only reason he laid on the couch anymore was because that was the place Yifan's soul had touched last. He would sleep there some nights, his heart directly over the spot he had found Yifan's body.

He didn't know it had been getting so bad. He had noticed Yifan sometimes having an extra drink, taking sleeping pills to get a somewhat decent rest, holding him closer at night with his increasingly thinning arms, but he didn't know how strong the darkness's hold was. They had been winning that battle. Together. Zitao had shown Yifan his battle scars and Yifan had kissed him away, but Zitao never saw a sign of weakness in the great enigma that was Yifan. He thought he knew everything there was to know about him, but did he know him at all? Was he in love with a complete stranger?

 _No_ , he reassured himself. _Yifan just didn't want to worry me with his problems._

Zitao wished he had.

 

_Take pride in what is sure to die._

 

Zitao took the handfull of pills, lifting them up to his mouth, and cringing at the bitter taste. The brush of his skin against his mouth made a pang go off in the middle of his chest, knowing he would never feel his soulmate's lips against his again. He would never have the pure, unadultered smell of Yifan wrapped around him again, straight from the source.

Pills were his new infatuation, filling the hole that was now bigger than ever. It made his head go numb. Now he didn't have to pretend like he wasn't debating the same fate that had drawn his lover in. He didn't debate anything then. He couldn't even form thoughts. It was like he was sleeping, but without the feeling of rejuvenation when you awaken. When he surfaced, it was only a matter of time befor he put himself under again, alcohol becoming something of a correlational factor to the drug. It made it easier to swallow.

 

_I will fear the night again._

 

He vomited into the toilet, the liquid coming up easily into his throat and out of his mouth. Maybe he shouldn't drink so much when he didn't eat. He felt his throat go raw with the burn of acid, the flavor in his mouth making him cringe. He sat back, wiping dribble off of his lips. If Yifan was there, he would be rubbing his back and putting a cold cloth across his forehead. So that's what he did. He ran some cold water onto a rag and put it on himself, closing his eyes and picturing the love of his life sitting with him, holding his hand and rubbing soothing circles into the back of it with his thumb.

Zitao would make some sort of comment about not being able to hold his liquor and Yifan would laugh, leaning over to kiss his temple with his round mouth before getting up and retrieving his toothbrush for him. He stood behind him as he brushed, still wiping at his forehead and trying to remove the feeling of clamminess from him. Then he helped him out of his clothes, putting one of his own button-up flannels on him and pulling him into bed alongside him. Zitao rested his head on Yifan's chest, savoring the way he smelt and the vibration of his heart underneath his ear. It had perfect rhythm, making Zitao sleepy. It was perfect.

"Don't leave me again," Zitao whispered, blinking slowly before his eyes fluttered closed without him realizing it.

"I never left."

 

_I hope I'm not my only friend._

 

Zitao woke up on the floor of the bathroom, his mouth still sour with the taste of his own sick. The rag he had put on his forehead was beside him, still wet, but only just. He got up, walking back into the bedroom and looking out of the window into the sunrise of Guangzhou. The sky was just becoming pink, slowly followed by a purple. He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

He made breakfast that morning. A sad, sloppy breakfast of bacon and toast for one, but he still put out the plate and silverware for two. He sat across from the empty seat, chewing on the food he didn't have enough energy to taste, swallowing down the orange juice he never much had an inclination for, but Yifan loved. He wondered if he was going to drink the rest of it, or if he was going to leave it in the refrigerator until it went out of date and he had no choice to get rid of it. He didn't want to think about that right now. He couldn't even get himself to wash Yifan's dirty clothes, not when they still smelt somewhat like him, let alone get rid or something he would sometimes drink directly out of.

He was becoming pathetic.

He took a deep breath, thinking that if Yifan were here, he would be able to smell him from where he sat, but the other side of the table was empty and he didn't smell anything but the remnant fumes of the food and juice.

When he was finished, he flushed all of his pills down the toilet, knowing Yifan wouldn't approve of his bad habit.

 

_Stay alive, stay alive for me._

 

Yifan rolled onto his back on the bed, his hand pushing Zitao's shirt up his muscled back, feeling the skin tremble beneath his fingertips. Yifan's tongue traced Zitao's lower lip, making him squirm and smile into the kiss. When Zitao's shirt was gone, Yifan pulled of his own, which made Zitao have to coat the surface of his perfect chest with kisses before he came back to his mouth. They were pressing their hips into each other, both of them desperate to feel the pure contact of the other. They needed to be closer than this.

They had been through his before, had sex countless of times, but Zitao always knew it was never going to be close enough for him. He expressed this to Yifan once, and now Yifan always made their lovemaking last as long as he could before it drove him insane. He wanted Zitao to feel as close to him as he could manage for as long as possible. Zitao never complained though, because he loved the way Yifan treated him, littering his neck with kisses and bruises, both of their mouths swollen with the force of their kisses.

They often got rough, but it wouldn't be accurate to describe the action as  _fucking_. They knew better than to label something like that with a name so carnal. All it was, was absolute love shown in physical form, letting each other know that without the other, they were just a half. They completed each other, the personal faults or weaknesses of one becoming whole with the combination of the other's. They considered themselves lucky, so incredibly lucky.

 

_You will die, but now your life is free._

 

Zitao didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stay in that apartment, he couldn't stay trapped in memories of things he wanted so badly it made him miserable. He had to leave, he had to put everything behind him, because he wasn't going to get stronger. He was going to keep getting weaker until he went down exactly the same path Yifan did. He needed a way out. So he found one in a plane ticket to Beijing and a suitcase full of only the necessities. He knew things were going to be hard, but things had already been hard. It wasn't as though this entire thing was something easy to swallow.

The plan had boarded twenty minutes ago and now they were in the air. A lady sat beside him, humming absentmindedly to herself. Zitao wondered if she had felt the pain of losing someone she loved.

He rested his head against the window, watching the clouds pass by. Would Yifan be mad at him for leaving?

He rejected the thought, knowing he would want him to go on with his life. He wouldn't want his absence to hinder Zitao in anyway, and Zitao kicked himself for not getting out sooner, but then he corrected himself, realizing that he needed time to mourn. His mourning wasn't over yet, but he was going to get there. It wouldn't be over for a long while, but he would get there eventually.

He pulled Yifan's jacket tighter around him, feeling along the edges of the one photo he had taken with him. It was a polaroid of him and Yifan on their two-year anniversary, both in cat ears and making peace signs at the camera. Not for the first time and certainly not the last, he wished Yifan was here, and he wished he had someone to tell him what to do. He wished he could stay in Guangzhou, but he  _knew_ he couldn't. He couldn't stay there now, and he wouldn't be able to for a long while. He needed to let this time in his life pass, and staying there, staying in the place where everything went to shit, would only make it more difficult for him.

He only had enough money to get a shitty hotel room for a few months, but he would find a job. He would make some money, he would find a place to stay for a bit, somewhere to call home while he was making things right for himself. He had told his friends before he boarded his flight. It was a rushed phonecall, everyone wanting to ask questions, but they knew better. They would take care of everything. They were going to get rid of Yifan's things - which pained Zitao to no end, but he knew he needed to do it. They were going to sell the apartment, then put the money in his account so he had more cash to spend while he was away in case the cost of living was higher than he anticipated. They were going to help. They were just grateful Zitao was making an effort to live again after two months of being locked away from the world.

And Zitao was making an effort to be human. He felt like he was just going through the motions now, but he knew, someday, he would feel whole again. He just had to take it one step at a time.

 

_Take pride in what is sure to die._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do you even know how hard I cried while writing this bullshit. I fucking hate myself. I swear to god I do. Wow. I just wrote this in two hours and if it's bad I am so sorry, but I just couldn't stop myself from writing. Please. Help me. I have a problem.


End file.
